


so i'm offering this simple phrase

by brahe



Series: brahe's 2017 advent bingo [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Baking, Bonding, Christmas Eve, Cookies, Fluff, Food Fight, Psychic Bond, ac2017, adventchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: The first thing Martin does when he wakes up every morning is check the time and date, as it would be if he never left. Which is the second reason why he knows it's Christmas Eve.The first reason he knows is Jefferson.





	so i'm offering this simple phrase

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written very much for legends but i'm super into the firestorm dynamic and it's kind of a challenge for me to write, so this happened  
> today's prompt is "cookies" which this started out as, but then morphed into some kind of fluffy food fight bonding and i don't really know what happened  
> title today from the christmas song
> 
> lemme tell you. summaries will be the death of me.

The first thing Martin does when he wakes up every morning is check the time and date, as it would be if he never left. Which is the second reason why he knows it's Christmas Eve.

The first reason he knows is Jefferson.

Jefferson, who he can tell is wide awake already, sending a steady mix of contentment and the vague sadness Martin’s come to know as homesickness through their bond. Martin rolls himself out of bed, grabs his glasses from the nightstand and slides a pair of slippers onto his feet before setting out to find him, though he’s fairly certain he knows where Jefferson will be.

 

He’s proven right when the door to the galley commons slides open. Jefferson is in the kitchen, Christmas music playing from the speakers, bowls of sugar and flour on the counter.

“Good morning, Jefferson,” Martin says, and Jefferson looks over, not particularly surprised to see Gray standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hey, Gray, merry Christmas Eve,” he says, half a smile on his face. 

“What’s all this?” Martin asks, although it’s obvious. Jefferson dragged Gray to a Jackson family Christmas last year, and the house had been full of people and food, and cookies.

“Nothing much, just making my grandma’s sugar cookies,” he shrugs. He turns back to the bowl in front of him. "Makes me feel a little better for missing the holiday." 

Martin stands next to him at the counter. There's no recipe open, though he had figured as much.

"Understandable," Martin says, and they lapse into silence as Jefferson finishes mixing.

"Would you like some help?" Martin asks eventually, and the immediate smile Jefferson gives him shouldn't be surprising, but is. It always surprises him when Jefferson does things like this, even though it's happened plenty of times.

"We're bonded, Gray. You're part of the family, now," Jefferson had told him once when he mentioned it. After everything that had happened with Ronnie and in the beginning with Jefferson, Martin was always amazed at Jefferson's quick compassion.

"That would be awesome," Jefferson says now, hands Martin the bowl he had been working on. "These are ready to be rolled out, but I want to get started on another batch. I'll show you how to do it, then can you do these?" 

"Of course," Martin says, and Jefferson takes a small bit of dough, rolls it into a ball between his hands, then presses it down a little on the cookie sheet on the stove top.

"Just like that," he says. 

"Seems ease enough," Martin nods, and Jefferson gives him another brilliant smile before leaving him to rolling.

Two or three songs go by before either of them speaks again. Martin's halfway done with placing the dough, and he has no idea how far along Jefferson is with the next batch.

"Thanks for helping," Jefferson says. He's not looking at Martin, and sounds more serious than he did before.

"Certainly, Jefferson," Martin says, pausing to look over at his partner.

"No, I mean, Clarissa's told me baking's not really your thing, and I'm sure there's a lot of other things you'd rather be doing..."

Ah. "Nonsense," Martin says, and Jefferson finally looks up at him. "Sure, there's research I could be doing, or studying Rip's old files, but I want to help. Truly." He pauses, thinking of what to say. "I feel like we don't spend very much time together on the ship, and you are important to me."

Jefferson just looks at him for a while, brows drawn together. "Well," he finally says, "you're important to me to. So thanks for helping. Again." 

The silence that follows is more awkward than the one before, and Martin looks at the dough in the bowl for a while before he gets an idea. There's a bag of flour on the counter next to him, and he reaches for it. Small handful of flour now in his hands, he makes sure Jefferson isn't looking before throwing it at his side, covering his shoulders and getting some on his face and in his hair.

Jefferson sputters, looking down at his shirt, wiping off his face and looking at the flour on his hands almost incredulously. And then he's laughing, nearly doubling over with it, and Martin completely misses the handful of brown sugar Jefferson grabs before it's hitting him in the face.

"You're on, Gray!" Jefferson shouts, grabbing a bag of flour from th counter and throwing a bit at Martin.

Martin grabs a bag, too, and then the two of them are circling each other in the middle of the kitchen, flour all over them, the floor, and nearly every other surface. Jefferson's laughing the whole time, a bright, happy sound Martin can feel reverberating through their bond, and Martin's grinning too, just as happy himself. All of the stress that had been lingering on both ends of their bond disappears, and they’re back to those few, too-short days between finally trusting each other and getting picked up by the _Waverider_. They usually don’t let their emotions mix this much, but for once, Martin doesn’t care, and neither does Jefferson. It’s _happy_ , so much like the holidays Martin remembers from childhood, and the ones Jefferson has been pulled away from.

“I’ve never actually had a food fight,” Jefferson tells him, when they call it a truce. They’re sitting side by side on the floor, backs against the cabinets, flour bags beside them, covered literally head to toe in flour. Martin shakes his head, and a dusting of the stuff falls onto his pants.

The information comes as a surprise to Martin, but he simply raises an eyebrow. “Well, I haven’t been in one since grade school, so I’m not sure how that stacks up, but I’m glad I could help.”

Jefferson gives him a smile, bumps their shoulders together, and they sit on the floor until the timer for the cookies goes off.

“You’ll probably want to clean up,” Gideon tells them, and Jefferson laughs.

“Yeah, we’ll take care if it,” he says.

“That’s not - “ Gideon starts, cut off by an indignant British shriek,  

“What happened to my kitchen!"


End file.
